


Open Up

by allofthefandoms



Category: Captain America (Movies), captain america: the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Hydra Party Favor Bucky Barnes, M/M, Missing Scene, Things I should feel bad about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 06:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1499435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/allofthefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"God, look at you.  Bet you'd do anything I asked."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Up

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Trash Party, enjoy your stay. Stereowire, I hope you appreciate the depths that I have sunken to.

Sagging in the chair, mind hazy, the Winter Soldier looks up at the leering face above him.  It’s familiar, in the vague way the room is familiar, and the gentle touch is as shocking as the pain that is still fading from his synapses.  People are never kind to him.

“God, look at you.”

The Winter Soldier is practically purring, arching into the soft hands that are untying him and running along his sides.  He doesn’t ever remember being touched like this.  (There are vague distant possible memories of before, but they are lost behind a haze of pain and forgetfulness.)

“Bet you’d do anything I asked.”

 He doesn’t want the touches to stop.  There’s a hand at his mouth and he opens willingly, the gag slipping free and into the waiting hand.  But instead of getting to sit up and reset, there is something else at his lips, just as relentless as the gag but soft and velvety despite its hardness.

“Open up.”

The Winter Soldier does.

“Look at him just taking it.”  He tries not to gag because he gets the distinct feeling he isn’t supposed to.  It does mean he drools all over himself, which makes the other men in the room laugh.

“Look at him.  God just look at what a mess he’s making.”  He can’t stifle the little whimpers and gaging chokes anymore, and it just seems to goad the man on.  He can faintly hear laughter, other bodies shifting around him, but all he can do is pay attention to the thick cock in his mouth.  (Because that’s what this is, he realized numbly.  A cock.  Another thing he has to finish.  Another mission.)

The come is even worse than the thrusting, hitting the back of his throat in convulsive hot spurts.  He tries to swallow and just makes desperate wet coughing sounds, striping his face and lips and chin with the bitter salty tang.  The cloth that wipes him clean is not gentle like the touches before  and it makes him whimper softly despite himself, voice hoarse.

“Rumlow, you done in there?”

“Yeah boss.”

“Then back on ice with him.”


End file.
